The Child's Name
by Rose Lupus
Summary: Rumpelstiltskin snatches a young Emma from her foster care home to manipulate her parents in a different world and time . He returns her, but there's a consequence he didn't forsee. Emma now knows exactly where she belongs, and she's heading to Storybrooke - 24 years ahead of schedule.
1. Chapter 1

**Edit 15/04/2012: **I was dead tired when I wrote this, only realised how much it showed when I read it again after posting. Just went through and fixed the mistakes and changed/added a few things. Hopefully it's a better read now!

**Disclaimer:** I own nought.

**Summary:** Rumpelstiltskin introduces Snow and Charming to their future daughter.

* * *

"Tell me her name Missy!" Rumpelstiltkin's voice called out to their backs as the way; his voice tainted with a little desperation.

"Tell me!" He demanded. "Or maybe… should I ask the child myself?"

Snow White paused in confusion. Before she had even had a chance to turn, there came a strangely muffled popping sound from Rumpelstiltskin's cell.

The three of them spun around. Prince Charming drew his sword and stepped to the fore instinctively. Snow let out a gasp when she saw what Rumpelstiltskin had in his grasp. It was a little girl - maybe three or four years old - with a tumble of loose blonde curls, clad in pink footed pyjamas. He held the child aloft by a fistful of material at her nape. The child looked about her with a startled expression, as if she had been yanked straight from her bed and the depths of sleep.

"What is your name?" he asked the child.

The child turned her head and caught sight of the green-skinned imp that had magicked her into his cell. She let out a high-pitched shriek of terror sight. Rumpelstiltskin winced at the noise.

"My, my dearie, there's no need for that," he chided the terrified child.

"Let her go!" Snow yelled at him. She didn't know how he gotten the child or who she was, but no child could be safe in the hands of Rumpelstiltskin. The child's fear was tearing at her heart.

Prince Charming and the warden stepped forward, but Rumpelstiltskin swiftly stepped back from the bars and shook his head to warn them off.

"Uh-uh-uh," he scolded in that insane little voice. He brandishing the struggling toddler at them, "One more step and this poor little one might have an… accident."

Rumpelstiltskin cackled evilly.

"We wouldn't you to have an accident, would we?" he cooed, speaking now to the child he held at arm's length.

"Boo-oogey man!" accused the little girl, swinging all her limbs wildly in an attempt to hit him. "Let go! Let go! Let go!"

"Boogey man?" laughed the imp. "What on earth is a boogey man?"

The child paused her frantic attempts to escape; distracted by the unexpected response.

"You're not the Boogey Man?" she asked in a small confused voice.

"Certainly not," Rumpelstiltskin denied in an incongruously charming tone. "I," he announced, "am a… magic man."

"Like a wizard?" the girl asked curiously.

Rumplestiltskin stretched his mouth wide in an amused grin.

"Well, yes, I guess I am a little like a wizard," he agreed, shifting the now compliant child to his hip.

The adults outside the cell tensed uncomfortably at the sight of the Dark One falsely eliciting the trust of a small child, but didn't dare do anything for fear he would harm her.

Snow felt sick watching Rumplestiltskin holding the tiny girl. What was he planning? Would he kill the girl to make her tell him the name of her unborn child? The girl was barely more than a baby… Snow imagined the girl's parents, how terrified they must be to have their precious daughter whisked from her bed in the night. Snow clutched her belly protectively and watched the imp with trepidation. She prayed that the little girl would soon be back safe in her bed.

"Did you use your magic to bring me here?" the child asked, innocently unaware of how dangerous the man she addressed was.

"I did! I brought you here to see your Mummy and Daddy!" Rumplestiltskin said and pointed through the bars at Snow White and Prince Charming. The girl looked where he directed, her eyes wide with wonder.

_No._ Snow froze, her eyes locked on the pair. Surely he was playing some sort of game with them. She knew he was the most powerful man in their world, but that could not be her daughter. Her daughter was safe and sound inside her. The baby kicked beneath her hand as if to reassure her.

"But I don't have a Mummy or a Daddy," the child's sad little voice whispered to Rumplestiltskin.

"Of course you do! Everybody has a Mummy and a Daddy!"

The child shook her head.

"I don't have any," she told him, "they didn't want me. Mrs Connor told me that's why I live with her. Because nobody wants me."

Snow felt a knife twist in her heart at the loneliness in the child's sweet face. No child deserved to be told they were unwanted.

"That's not true! Here they are!" Rumplestiltskin waved his free hand at the royal couple. "And I think they love you _very_ much."

Prince Charming glared at the imp, thinking what a cruelty it was to manipulate to emotions of an orphaned child. Rumpelstiltskin was treating her like she was a pawn on a chessboard, a tool he could use to get what he wanted. Charming grasped his sword, waiting for a moment in which he could dart forward, maybe grab the child. She looked small enough to fit through the bars…

An expression of deep longing passed over the child's face as she looked again at the attractive young couple, but then she dropped her eyes and shook her head again firmly.

"Really? I was_ so_ certain I had the right little girl. Perhaps I called the wrong name…Child, tell me, what is your name?" he asked again. There was a cunning glint in his eye as he spoke in a sweet tone, "Tell us your name, and then we will know if these are you parents."

She cast another side-long glance at Snow and Charming, and Snow could see little ray of hope shining in her eyes. She whispered something to Rumpelstiltskin. He cackled happily and instructed her.

"Say it loudly dear, so they can hear you." His eyes were fixed on Snow White, watching for her reaction.

"My name is Emma," the child called out to them.

Snow felt her face pale. Her eyes fixed on the child's face, and everything around her seemed to fade a little. She felt as if the ground had been ripped from under her; she was somehow falling from a great height and standing completely still at the same time. Rumpelstiltskin watched her face crumple with glee.

"Emma?" Snow cried out, clutching her pregnant belly and staring at the child her baby would grow into. "Emma!"

Snow darted forward, slamming against the cell door, arms reaching through as she desperately tried to reach her daughter. Charming ran after, shocked by her sudden speed. The child was stunned by Snow White's reaction for a split second before coming to life and attempting to launch herself towards her.

"Mummy!" Emma cried out happily, her body half out of Rumpelstiltskin's grasp and little arms stretched towards the cell door. "Mummy! Mummy! Mummy!"

"Emma!" Snow brushed her daughter's fingers with one swipe.

Rumpelstiltskin yanked the child back out of Snow White's reach.

"Don't hurt her!" Snow begged, tears streaming down cheeks. "Don't hurt her!"

"Oh, I won't," he promised, holding the again struggling child back easily. "I'm just going to send her back where she belongs."

"Nooo!" Emma cried, still reaching for Snow. "I want to stay!"

"Sorry dearie, you can't do that," Rumpelstiltskin said, "you have to go back now."

Emma sobbed, still reaching for her parents, only a few feet away from her and yet still out of reach.

"This was all just a dream," he told her. "Say goodbye now, you're about to wake up!"

"Mummy! Daddy!" Emma cried to Snow and Charming, who were now both reaching back, "I want to stay with you!"

Rumpelstiltskin lifted her into the air. Emma, knowing she was about to be sent back, called out.

"Nooo! Noooo! Don't make me go! I'll come back! I'll find you! I'll – "

There was a flash and then she was gone, and Rumpelstiltskin alone in the cell once again.

"So it's Emma then?" he smiled wickedly at the royal couple. "What a lovely name."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **I sat down today and tried to finish the next chapter on my Smallville story**, **and what comes out? Little Emma from Once Upon a Time. Go figure.**  
**

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Emma sat up in her bed, tears streaming down her face. She struggled to catch her breath as she looked around herself in disappointment. It was dark, but she still recognised the bunk beds and the sleeping children around her.

She was back at the group home. It must have been a dream after all.

Emma lay back down and buried her head in her pillow to muffle the crying noises. She didn't want to get into trouble for being up this late. The night people were grumpier than the day people. They didn't like being woken up, so she had to be quiet.

She had been _sure_ that it wasn't a dream, because dreams didn't feel like that. Dreams were a bit fuzzy and hard to remember when you woke up. This had felt exactly like being awake, like she really was in that dungeon with the funny green wizard, her parents and their friend. It had been cold and the cell smelt bad. She had never felt cold or smelt things in a dream before.

She remembered the face of the pretty dark-haired lady from her dream and the blonde man with the sword – he'd looked like a knight or maybe a prince. The magic man had said they were her parents. That they loved her.

She knew he was wrong, because nobody loved her. She used to think her foster parents did – the first ones. They had been nice to her, but then they sent her away to the group home because they were going to get a baby. They didn't love her at all. Her second foster family hadn't even liked her – they were mean and yelled a lot. She'd almost been glad when _those_ people sent her back to the home. The group home people didn't love her either; they didn't love anyone. They looked after the kids because that was their job, that's all. Emma didn't know what she did wrong – lots of other kids got adopted, but nobody had adopted her even though she tried really hard to be good and to not cry or get angry.

She hadn't believed him until she told them her name. The lady knew her; she did! She had called out Emma's name and tried _so_ hard to reach her through the bars, like she really loved her and had missed her. Emma thought then that maybe Mrs Connor was wrong – maybe her parents hadn't wanted to get rid of her. Maybe they had _lost _her. Maybe she wasn't supposed to be at the group home with all the other kids nobody wanted; she was just there by mistake, because she was lost and nobody had found her yet!

The lady – Emma's Mummy – had cried when the magic man wouldn't let her have Emma; she was afraid he would hurt her. She really did love Emma. The mean green man wouldn't let her go, even though she begged him to let her stay, and even though her Mummy and Daddy wanted her to stay too. Emma hated him.

She wiped her eyes and huddled under the covers. She was still not sure whether it was real or a just really strange dream. She hoped it was real. It had never occurred to her that she might be lost, because the grown-ups had told her that her parents didn't want her, and grown-ups knew everything. But maybe they could be wrong, even though they looked like they were telling the truth. Maybe she really was lost and her parents didn't know how to find her.

Maybe she would have to be the one to find _them_.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Sooooo…. This story was supposed to be finished, but I couldn't stop day-dreaming about it, so here we go again. I don't have much time, so I'm just going to write what I can in this half hour break and post it up.

* * *

Emma was four and a half, and she could read.

Well, not completely, but she could sound out most of the words if they weren't too hard. Her teacher at school, Miss Clancy, said she was very clever, and that's why she got to start school a year younger than most of her classmates. Her foster dad said she was just at school so they didn't have to have her at home every day.

She wasn't meant to have heard him say that, but she had.

Right now she was trying to read the old newspaper clipping that had fallen out of Bridget's folder. Bridget was her social worker, the person who took her to new foster families when the old ones didn't want her anymore. That wasn't why she'd come today though. Today she said she was there to check up on her and her new foster family. Emma had done her very best to answer all the questions right – she was getting very good at that.

The article had a picture of a baby. And the big words up the top said 'Baby Emma Still Unclaimed'. She wasn't sure what 'unclaimed' meant, but she understood that the article was about her.

She slipped over the side of the bed so no one would see her reading something that wasn't hers if they came in the door. She sounded out the words she couldn't read easily and managed to read most of the article. Well, she got the gist of it anyway – it said that when she was a baby her parents left her by a highway, near a town called Madison.

Emma seized on that - Madison. Her parents were near Madison, in Maine.

Emma wondered whether that was close by, if maybe she could go there and find them. Emma stared at the picture of herself as a baby and thought about the parents she had seen once in a dream that wasn't really in a dream. She would much rather live with them than Mr and Mrs Bennett, even if they were nicer than the last family.

Mrs Bennett was calling for her and the other two kids that lived here, so she carefully folded up the article and hid it under her mattress.

* * *

**A/N 2: **Eek, gotta go! More later!**  
**


	4. Chapter 4

At school the next day, she asked Miss Clancy where Madison was. Miss Clancy showed her a map of Maine.

"So it's really close?" Emma asked excitedly, spanning the distance between the two points with her finger and her thumb.

"No, not really," said her teacher laughed good-naturedly.

She photocopied the map and drew a line along the map from their school to Madison. Each time she went through a town, she circled it.

"Each of these circles is a town, like ours. They have schools and shops and houses with and lots of people living there. Can you count the towns for me Emma?"

"1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6… Madison," Emma counted the circled dots on the map. "Six towns?"

"Yes, that's exactly right!"

Emma beamed at the praise. She loved Miss Clancy; she was Emma's favourite grown-up. After a pause for thought, Emma frowned.

"So Madison is a long, long way away then?"

Emma had trouble picturing how far away it must be, to have six towns in between, but she thought it must take a very long time to get there, because when she took the bus to school that felt like a long time and her bus didn't even go through one whole town.

"Is it so far away that you'd go there on a plane?" she guessed.

"Oh no, not that far."

Miss Clancy pointed to one of the towns she'd circled on the map, about halfway to Madison.

"See this place here? This is where my parents live, and sometimes I take a bus to go there and visit them. It only takes me about an hour for me to get there. I think Madison would only be about two or three hours away by bus. That's about how long you have left at school today."

"Oh," Emma said and nodded to show she understood. So it was only a bus away. She could do that – she took the bus to school every day all by herself.

"Here," Miss Clancy said, and passed Emma the photocopied map they'd been drawing on. "Would you like to take this home? You can show your parents what you've been learning about at school!"

Emma didn't tell Miss Clancy that her foster parents didn't care what she did at school because they were too busy – she knew from experience that telling people things like that got you in trouble. She just smiled.

"Thank-you Miss Clancy!" she said, and took the map to her school bag and tucked it safely inside.


	5. Chapter 5

When she got back, the house was in an uproar – Mr Bennett was angry. He got angry sometimes, but today he was even more angry than usual. Emma could hear him yelling before she even got inside the house. He was yelling at Colin, the oldest boy who lived them. Colin was fourteen, and a bit of a handful, he was usually the one Mr Bennett got angry at. Emma slipped inside the front door and closed it quietly behind her. She tiptoed into the house, trying not to draw any attention to herself.

Colin yelled something back at Mr Bennett, and Emma couldn't help herself – she stopped creeping through the house and listened to the argument instead. Colin was going to get in so much trouble, Emma knew it. Back-chatting wasn't allowed, and he was back-_yelling._ She listened in terrified awe as her foster brother and father's voices rose louder and louder. Surely people in the next street must have been able to hear them!

She heard Mrs Bennett's voice next, trying to interrupt the two of them (she almost never did that; she tried to stay of Mr Bennett's way when he was raging just like the rest of them). She told Colin to go up to his room, _RIGHT NOW!_

She had to say it a couple of times before she was heard over the yelling. Colin stomped his way out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Mr Bennett heard the stomping everywhere and thundered out of the kitchen, yelling after Colin not to stomp in his house and that he should respect the opportunities he had been given.

Emma, who had frozen to the spot, didn't move out of Mr Bennett's way quickly enough as he came out of the kitchen, so he swiped her aside his he went past. She fell to the ground, her breath was knocked out of her. Mr Bennett went to follow Colin up the stairs, but Mrs Bennett grabbed his arm and told him to leave it.

Emma stayed where she'd fallen, staring up at them. Mr Bennett snatched his arm back from his wife and yelled at her instead, about there being foster kids all over this house, getting into his things and how she was the one who wanted them and she wasn't keeping them in line. He used a lot of curse words, some that Emma knew and one or two she hadn't heard before. She could still tell were bad words from the way he was saying them and the way Mrs Bennett's face flinched when he said them to her.

Mr Bennett finished yelling and stormed out the door, slamming it behind him. Mrs Bennett burst into tears. Emma took a breath again, and her chest hurt where Mr Bennett had pushed her. She rubbed the spot to help with the pain, but she didn't cry.

"I'm sorry Emma," Mrs Bennett told her when she stopped crying. She helped Emma up from the floor. "He didn't really mean what he said. He just had a bad day at work. He didn't mean to knock you over, it was just an accident." She took a shaky breath before she continued. "So you just forget about all that and go up to your room, ok? I'll go get you guys a snack."

Emma nodded, still rubbing her chest. Her wrist hurt too now, from when she'd tried to use it to catch herself when she fell, but she didn't mention it. It didn't really hurt too bad, and she didn't want to make Mrs Bennett more upset. So she did as she was told and climbed the stairs to her room.


	6. Chapter 6

Emma was startled awake in the middle of the night by the front door slamming, and loud thumping footsteps coming up the stairs. Emma looked across to the other bed in the room – her foster brother Caden was awake too, and he looked as scared as Emma felt. Mr Bennett was back from the bar he went to when he got angry about work and at the foster kids. Emma pulled the covers up over her head, squeezed her eyes shut and hugged her baby blanket, pretending to be still sleeping in case Mr Bennett came into their room. Her real Mom and Dad gave Emma her blanket when she was born – her first foster parents had told her that. It was soft and white and had her name sewn on it in pretty purple thread. Emma buried her face in the blanket and whispered into it.

"I miss you."

More than ever, Emma wished she lived with her real parents.

Emma lay awake for a while after she heard her foster father stumble to into his bedroom and go quiet, partly because her arm was aching again, and partly because she wanted to be sure Mr Bennett was actually asleep.

The next morning, Emma woke up earlier than usual. She thought she'd heard a noise, but when she sat up and listened for it, it was gone. She saw the morning light creeping in through the window, so she quietly got up and got herself dressed. She pulled her baby blanket from the bed and went to put it in her box under the bed where she kept it during the day (she wasn't supposed to sleep with it anymore because she wasn't a baby), but stopped and paused.

She snuck a quick glance over to check if Caden was still asleep – he was. She carefully unzipped her school bag and shoved the blanket right down the bottom. She took off her scarf and put it on top of the blanket, tucking it in carefully so that none of the white knit blanket showed. Happy with her work, she zipped up the bag and took it down stairs.

Mrs Bennett was up too, sitting in her pyjamas on the couch nursing a cup of coffee. She looked tired and sad to Emma. She was always tired and sad. Emma felt sorry for her – Mr Bennett wasn't a very nice man to be married to. At least Emma wasn't stuck with him forever. She'd probably be sent to the next foster family before too long. Emma got the cereal out and poured it into her bowl, and Mrs Bennett came over to pour the milk so Emma wouldn't spill it.

Caden came downstairs to join them before long, and then right before it was time for Emma and Caden to catch to the bus, Colin came rushing down the stairs – he liked to sleep in. Caden and Emma took their packed lunches from the fridge and put them into their back packs before they left to catch the bus.

"Bye Mrs Bennnet," Caden said as he headed for the door.

"Goodbye," Emma waved to Mrs Bennet and Colin

"Bye kids," Mrs Bennett said. Colin didn't respond - he just continued eating his breakfast.

Emma didn't care. Colin never said goodbye to her and she didn't even like him anyway. And today, Emma was going to go find her parents, and she was never, ever going to come back.


	7. Chapter 7

When they got on the bus, Caden went to sit next to his friend Sam, and Emma picked a seat three rows back, near the buses other door. When they reached the school, Emma slouched down low in the seat and prayed Caden wouldn't notice she wasn't following him off the bus. She grinned from ear to ear when the bus started moving again with her still on board. She'd done it! Emma stayed in her seat for the rest of the bus ride, watching the town go past.

They reached the town's main bus station and everyone on the bus stood up and made their way off the bus. Emma took their lead and followed them inside the bus station. There were lots of people about, some of them buying tickets, others sitting around reading books and drinking coffee while they waited for their buses.

Emma looked around the station and realised she didn't know which bus she was meant to get on, or when. She slipped through the people milling about and sat down on the floor by a pot plant. She could see a board on the wall with lots of numbers and names of towns, but Emma couldn't figure it out. She took her map out of her bag and looked at it, but it didn't help. She was starting to lose her confidence, when she overheard someone in the line say 'Madison'.

Emma's head snapped up and she listened very carefully. The voice belonged to a big blonde lady who was talking to her son about how they were going to stay with his aunt and cousins. She had lots of children – the boy she was talking to was almost as old as Emma's foster brother, Colin. There were three girls who were younger than him, and a little boy who was younger than and Emma holding her hand. The little boy saw Emma looking at them and he waved cheerfully. Emma smiled and waved back at him. Emma kept listening in as the woman bought tickets for a bus that went through Madison. She started sounding a bit stressed when the bus driver told her the times had changed and the next bus was leaving in five minutes. Emma smiled.

"Are you lost little one?" someone asked Emma.

Emma looked up at the elderly lady, startled by the stranger approaching her.

"No." Emma said, trying to sound confident, "I'm catching a bus."

The woman looked around concernedly, searching for a parent. Just at that moment, the family Emma had been watching walked past. The mother was counting the tickets and placing them in her purse. The little boy waved excitedly at Emma and held out his toy car to show her.

"I've got to go," Emma told the lady, who gave her a look of relief when she saw Emma was going with the mother and her children. "My bus is almost going!" she added excitedly.

The lady smiled at her and waved goodbye before Emma left, following close behind the family so she didn't lose them. She followed them outside to the bus stop, and up the steps onto the bus. The bus driver assumed she belonged with the woman who showed him a handful of tickets for herself and her children, and he waved them all past. Emma walked down the aisle and took a seat at the very back of the bus next to a window, where she was hidden from view.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's note:** A longer chapter this time, hope you like it. Also, if any of this seems unrealistic for a four year old... let's just attribute it Emma being magic, ok? :-)

* * *

Emma followed the family and another lady off the bus and quickly snuck away before anyone noticed she was there by herself.

On the bus she had looked at the article again. It said the little boy who found her on the side of the road had walked up the highway until he found a diner just outside of Madison, so that's what Emma was looking for. She figured her parents must live just a bit further along the highway past the diner. She couldn't wait to meet them again.

She wistfully remembered how her mother had said her name – like it was her favourite word. And just for her second their hands had touched when she was trying to grab Emma away from the nasty wizard. Emma sometimes had dreams (real dreams) where her mother had managed to pull her away, and she got to live with her parents instead of going back to the foster home. In her dreams her mother held her close and kissed her head, and her daddy wrapped his arms around them both. Emma had never been so happy as she felt in those dreams.

Madison was a very small town and there didn't seem to be many people there. Emma only saw four cars driving down the street before she was on the outskirts of the tiny town. She walked along the biggest road that ran through the middle of town and followed it out until there were no more houses. A little further along, she found the diner, and she hurried past before anyone in the diner could look up and see her.

Emma walked and walked along the highway, until she felt so tired and hungry she had to stop. She walked away from the road and found a grassy patchy under a tree to sit under while she had her lunch and had a big drink from her water bottle. She sat there for a while until she felt ready to walk again. It couldn't be too much further, she thought.

She started walking again, looking for houses hidden in the trees, or driveways, but she didn't see any for a long time. And then, in the distance she saw a sign. Emma grinned and started running. When she reached it she read it out loud.

"Welcome to Story…. Book… brooke. Storybrooke."

Emma felt sure this must be where her parents lived, so she started walking again more enthusiastically, occasionally breaking into a run or throwing in a couple of skips to express her excitement. When she saw the first house, she let out a squeal and ran until she reached it. She knocked on the door, but nobody answered it, so she continued on, past a big shed and a house that looked to old and broken down for anyone to live in, and just as she was approaching a group of houses that looked more promising, a car came down the street and slowed to a stop beside her.

Once it stopped, Emma saw the lights on its roof and realised it belong to a policeman. Before she could get herself together enough to realise she should run the policeman was out of the car and speaking to her.

"Hello, what's your name?"

Emma stayed quiet, staring at the star shaped badge on his belt, thinking she should have watched more carefully for cars.

"A bit shy, huh?" the man asked her, "I'm Sheriff Graham. If you're lost, I could help you get home."

When Emma didn't say anything to this, he tried another question.

"Do you live in one of these houses?" the sheriff pointed at the houses he had seen her walking towards.

Emma shook her head, her heart sinking. She was done for, she was sure of it.

"Where are you supposed to be then?" Graham asked her.

"At school," Emma admitted, her face betraying her guilt.

"Ah-ha. And why aren't you at school?"

Emma squirmed fearfully.

"I didn't go," she said, and hung her head.

"Well then," said the sheriff, "Guess where you're going now?"

"School?" Emma guessed in a resigned tone. She was so close, she'd come all this way, and now the cops were going to take her all the way back before she even got to look for her parents properly. It wasn't fair.

"Yes," nodded Graham and held out his hand. Emma gave him her hand and hung her head dejectedly as he led her to the police car and strapped her into the back seat. She stared out the window until Graham announced they were there. Emma looked about in confusion. That wasn't long enough to get home! She peered at the building they had stopped at. There were children playing on a playground behind the fence - it was a school, but it wasn't her school.

Graham opened her door and motioned for her to get out of the vehicle. Emma hesitated momentarily before obeying. She unbuckled her seatbelt and climbed out of the car, pulling her back pack out after her. She stood on the sidewalk and stared first at the unfamiliar school, and then up at the sheriff and then back again, unsure of what she should do.

"Now," he said. "I better take you to the office and get them to call your parents."

Emma's eyes grew wide and at this suggestion. Her foster parents were already so angry at her before she left, and they'd be even more angry if they knew she'd run away instead of going to school. They'd send her back to the group home for sure.

"Please don't tell them," Emma pleaded, "I promise I won't ever do it again! _Ever_."

Graham looked at the little girl who was looking up at him so earnestly. He could see she was almost to the point of tears at the thought of her parents being told, and so Graham gave in to his softer side. She was only a little kid after all, and she obviously hadn't done such a thing before or he would have heard about it – Storybrooke was a very small town and he it's only law enforcement officer.

"Do you promise to be a good girl and _never_ skip school again?" Graham asked her seriously.

Emma nodded so hard she reminded him of one of those bobble head dolls, her eyes bright and sincere.

"Alright then," he said, "I let you off with a warning, just this one time."

"Thank-you!"

"Now go on," Graham said, guiding her through the gate to the playground, "Go find your class."

Emma was still confused, but did as he said and walked out into the playground. She looked back and saw the sheriff closing the gate behind her. He gave her a wave goodbye, which she returned automatically. She turned back to the playground and wondered what on earth she was supposed to do now.


	9. Chapter 9

Mary Margaret Blanchard – or Miss Blanchard to her class of 23 ten year-olds – had gotten up that morning like she did every morning, at a quarter to seven. She arrived at the school early, as usual, to get ready for the day's classes. She loved to teach, and liked to think of ways to make every day special for her class. Perhaps the reason she was so dedicated was because she did not have much to occupy her outside of the school.

She had no family to speak of, no boyfriend… she didn't even really have a best friend, though she was on friendly terms her fellow teachers and many people around town. She filled her free time by volunteering with various groups around the town.

Even on the best days, in the best moments with her kids when she was laughing and smiling happily with them as they learnt new things and grew in so many ways; there was always this undercurrent of sadness. She wondered sometimes why she felt that way… it's not like her life was really horrible, like some people's lives were. Sure, she got lonely sometimes, but she loved her job, her kids. She lived in a gorgeous little town where everyone knew everyone, she had an apartment and she got by just fine.

However, in spite of all the things that were going well in her life, she felt like something vitally important was missing. Something she could never quite pinpoint exactly… maybe because she never had it, whatever it was. That was what troubled her in the quiet moments, when she didn't have a class full of rambunctious kids, or something else to keep her occupied.

Right now however, was a good moment. She was supervising the children on the playground, and giggling at their playful antics; her troubles pushed back into a far corner of her mind. Nicky and Paige were pretending to be acrobats, hanging from the monkey bars at crazy angles to excitement of some of smaller students who were clapping for them. Another group were playing a clapping game on the grass under a tree, something with a vaguely familiar chant that went along with it.

Mary Margaret was listening to the chant, wondering whether they were making up new lyrics themselves when she noticed a little girl standing by the fence, hanging back from all the fun. She was a tiny little thing, with slightly curled blonde hair and delicate features that wore a serious expression that looked out of place on one so young.

Mary Margaret started picking her with through the other students to see what was troubling the child. Her movement towards her attracted the little girl's attention. The girl's eyes glanced upon her, and her expression changed, almost as if she recognised Mary Margaret.

Mary Margaret gave her a little wave and smile across the playground. The little girl's face lit up like a Christmas tree, and the brightly coloured backpack that had been hanging from one of her shoulders dropped to the ground unnoticed as she burst into a run. She ran full pelt at Mary Margaret, several other bigger children having to dodge out of her path.

Mary Margaret didn't even have time to react before the child had slammed against her and wrapped her knees in a death grip.


	10. Chapter 10

"Woah!" Mary Margaret gasped and staggered; pretending to almost be knocked over by the child torpedo.

She was a little taken aback by the violently enthusiastic display of affection from a child she didn't know, but she wasn't about to turn down a cuddle from an adorable child. She lay her hand upon the child's head and smiled down at her (her hair was so soft!). She was always struck by how tiny the kindergarten students were compared to her own students – kids grew so fast! This one in particular seemed even tinier, probably still four years old.

"Hello!" Mary Margaret greeted the cuddly little bundle of energy.

The little girl lifted her face to look up at her and the smile on her darling face melted Mary Margaret's heart into a puddle of goo. This was quite possibly the most precious little child she had ever laid eyes on. Then the child stretched her arms up to Mary Margaret in a classic pick-me-up gesture, and Mary Margaret was a complete goner.

She couldn't contain the "Awww!" that spilt from her lips, and she definitely, absolutely could not turn that plea down. She slipped her hands under the girl's armpits and lifted her into her arms and was immediately rewarded with a hug.

Emma wrapped her arms and legs around her mother and clung to her, letting her head flop down on Mary Margaret's shoulder with a sigh of contentment. She hadn't slept very well the night before, and she had walked an awfully long way from Madison. Now that she had found her mother and was safe in her arms, she finally allowed herself to give in to the tiredness that had been building up all day.

The child felt so much lighter in her arms than she had expected. She was soft and fragile, her hair smelled of some sweet fruit, and she relaxed against Mary Margaret with such an obvious and complete trust that it wrenched at something deep inside her heart.

Suddenly, irrationally, tears were prickling at her eyes.

Mary Margaret clung to the little girl and breathed in her scent, as if this child whose name she didn't even know could save her from the profoundly confusing surge of emotion that was pulling her to pieces.


	11. Chapter 11

Mary Margaret took a couple of minutes to pull herself together, and when she did, she shook her head at her behaviour. What was wrong with her? Getting all weepy and emotional over something as simple as child giving her a hug? Perhaps, she thought, she was coming down with something – she did tend toward emotional lability when she was sick or sleep deprived.

She lifted her head and found one of her students had noticed her minor distress and was watching her with concern. She smiled cheerily and waved at Nicole to prove she was fine. Nicole grinned and waved back before returning her attention to the girl at the head of the skipping rope line.

That taken care of, her attention returned to the student in her arms. The little girl had not made any attempt to move from her position in Mary Margaret's arms while she was attempting to rein in her emotional control. Her head remained pillowed on Mary Margaret's right shoulder, arms and legs wrapped around her in a monkey grip that had grown a little looser over the last couple of minutes.

Mary Margaret stroked the girl's back again, as she realised now she had been absent-mindedly doing for a while now.

"Are you falling asleep on me, little one?" Mary Margaret queried softly, the affection she was feeling clear in her voice.

There was a sluggish pause before Emma responded.

"No."

Mary Margaret's lips twitched in amusement. She sounded half asleep, and she hadn't raised her heavy head from Mary Margaret's shoulder.

Clearly the child needed a nap.

Mary Margaret decided she would have to take her to the kindergarten teacher. She didn't spend much time at that end of the school, but she assumed they probably had mats or something of the like for the young children to have naps on as they were adjusting to the full day school routine.

Of course, Mary Margaret reasoned, she couldn't ask the child to walk. She was clearly too tired. She would simply have to carry the little girl to the class and endure the continuing cuddle. Just then though, the school bell rang to signal the end of recess.

Her class! Mary Margaret frowned; she would have to get them organised first. She weaved her way through the children running back to their classrooms and retrieved Emma's backpack from the ground where she had dropped it, squatting awkwardly to reach it with her arms full of Emma.

Emma gave a brief noise of discontent at the movement, thinking Mary Margaret meant to put her down. Mary Margaret hushed her and gave her back another comforting rub before grabbing the bag and standing. She hooked her arm through the shoulder strap so her hand was free to return to Emma. Four-year-old and backpack in tow, she headed for her classroom as quickly as she could without disturbing Emma.

When she reached her classroom, most of her kids were already seated, and the others quickly followed suit. Twenty-three pairs of eyes fixed curiously on the little girl their teacher had brought into their classroom.

"Welcome back everyone - let's get our reading books," Miss Blanchard instructed, and waited until they did so.

"Now open them to where we left off in chapter six."

There was a rustling of pages as the children found their places.

"Nicole," Mary Margaret crooked her finger and smiled as the girl jumped up from her seat, delighted to be picked. "I have to return this sleepy little girl to the kindergarten class, and while I'm gone, I need you to lead the class in reading. Do you think you could do that for me?"

"Yes, Miss Blanchard!"

"Do you remember what we did last time? One page each, row by row?"

Nicole nodded affirmatively.

"Okay! Thank-you very much Nicole."

To the class as a whole she added further instruction.

"I'll just be gone for a few minutes. If you have any troubles, please ask Mrs Marks next door to help you. And remember, Nicole's the leader today, let's all do our very best to support her."

"Yes, Miss Blanchard," came their reply.

Mary Margaret smiled and left her class to continue the story. She briefly stuck her into Mrs Mark's classroom to ask her to keep an ear out for her class while she stepped out, and then continued on to the lower school.

She knocked on the kindergarten class's door and was shortly greeted by their teacher, Mrs Smith, a couple of her more curious pupils.

"Hello," Mary Margaret smiled at the small children and then to Mrs Smith she indicated her burden. "One of your little people is _very _tired today. Is there somewhere we can put her down to rest?"

Mrs Smith's eyebrows jumped in surprise, and she turned back to her class looking to see if anyone was missing. Her brow furrowed and she leaned forward to examine the little face on Mary Margaret's shoulder. She shook her head negatively.

"This isn't one of mine, Miss Blanchard."

She saw the confusion on Mary Margaret's face and added a suggestion.

"I think what you have on your hands is a little Houdini from the pre-school down the street."

"Oh, really?" Mary Margaret's eyes went round and wide at the thought. "Oh dear. I better call them."

Mrs Smith nodded in agreement.

"You can use my phone," she offered, and indicated the tiny office that adjoined the kindergarten classroom.

Mary Margaret thanked her, and went into the small room. She dropped Emma's bag on the floor and picked up the phone. Five minutes of conversation with a very confused pre-school teacher later, she put down the handset and dropped into the office chair. She wasn't from the school and the preschool wasn't missing anyone either… so where did she come from?

Mary Margaret took a deep breath and did her best to hide her concerns before she gently wakened the little girl.

"Hi sweetie," She smiled at the girl whose cheek was now imprinted with the lace pattern from Mary Margaret's collar. Emma yawned in response, and drooped forward, obviously not ready to wake.

"I know you're tired little one, but could you do me a big favour?"

The little girl drowsily nodded in response, and waited for the request.

"Could you tell me your name?" Mary Margaret asked, stroking the red lace patterned mark on her cheek.

A flicker of confusion ran across her face at Mary Margaret's question, but after a moment, the child responded.

"My name's Emma Swan!" the little girl whispered to her, as if confiding a very important secret.

Mary Margaret smiled at this adorable display, and responded in kind.

"Well, hello Emma, I'm Miss Blanchard," she whispered just as Emma had done.

Emma stared at her, the smile fading from her face gradually as she looked for something in Mary Margaret's eyes and failed to find it. Emma shifted her position in Mary Margaret's lap, leaning back as if trying to get a better view of her. Her eyes widened in disbelief, and her bottom lip began to tremble ever so slightly.

"Don't - don't you remember me?"

The deep hurt in the Emma's voice broke Mary Margaret's heart. She didn't understand how she'd caused it, but she desperately wanted to make her smile again. Mary Margaret's forehead creased as she searched her memory. She wondered where she could have met this child who was so convinced she should be remembered. She wracked her brain, but just couldn't recall ever seeing this little girl before today.

Emma could read the expression on Mary Margaret's face but she couldn't understand it. This _was _her Mommy. She had different hair now, but it was still definitely her. This was the woman who'd tried to save her from the bad man. The person who'd wanted her; who loved her. Emma had seen it when her mother had begged for her not to be harmed. She _knew _it was true.

So how could it be also be true that this woman had completely forgotten her?

This wasn't how it was supposed to be. She was supposed to find her Mommy and Daddy and they were supposed to love her and keep Bridget from ever taking her back the group home ever again. Her Mommy wasn't supposed to ask her name and look at her like she was her a stranger.

Emma couldn't help it. She burst into tears.

* * *

**A/N: **So… this was going to be part of the last chapter, but I decided we all (Little Emma included) needed to stop and savour that happy moment, because I knew this was coming. I'm sorry. :-(


	12. Chapter 12

Emma sobbed brokenly, covering her face with her hands.

"Oh, sweetie! Don't cry, it's okay!"

Mary Margaret tried to wrap the little girl in a consoling hug, but the girl rejected the advance and pulled further away from her until she slipped accidentally off Mary Margaret's lap. Mary Margaret caught her before she fell to the ground, but couldn't stop the arm Emma flung out in sudden fright from banging against the edge of the desk.

Emma sucked in a deep breath and abruptly stopped crying. Mary Margaret saw her face go pale and her eyes widened. And then Emma _screamed_.

Mrs Smith ran to the office door and flung it open to find Mary Margaret looking panicked and pulling the little girl back into her lap. She lifted her eyes to give Mrs Smith a looked that begged her to help.

"She started crying, and then she hit her arm on the table," Snow explained desperately trying to calm Emma, holding her close.

Mrs Smith took the hand that Mary Margaret had indicated, and noticed the edge of bruise peeking out from under the sleeve of Emma's coat. She gently slid the garment up out of the way, and both she and Mary Margaret gasped when they saw Emma's wrist. The bruise was an angry purple, and her wrist was painfully swollen.

"I don't understand; she didn't hit it _that _hard!"

Mrs Smith's lips pressed together tightly. She released Emma's arm and Emma pulled it to her chest and cradled it, her screams replaced by whimpering cries.

"This didn't just happen," she told Mary Margaret, "There's already a bruise."

Mary Margaret stared at her over Emma's head, not understanding.

"But, she was fine just five minutes ago!"

"No she wasn't," Mrs Smith said, casting a troubled look at Emma. "She was in pain, she just wasn't showing it."

Mary Margaret gave Mrs Smith a horrified look and cradled Emma closer to her.

"What kind of child walks around with a broken arm without even complaining?" She asked the question, but she had a terrible feeling she already knew the answer.

"One that's used to being in pain," was Mrs Smith's unhappy reply. After a pause she added, "We need to get her to the hospital. And somebody should call the sheriff."


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N:** So... I was supposed to be asleep several hours ago. Really supposed to be asleep. But god dang it - I couldn't sleep with little Emma all crying and sad, I had to fix it.

Also a a warning for this chapter: pretty much all of my knowledge of foster care and child protective services in America comes from Hallmark films. To create this chapter, I took that vague and flawed understanding of child protection law and then twisted it until it was barely recognisable to give me the completely unrealistic result I wanted.

I have no regrets.

* * *

Mary Margaret went with Emma straight to the hospital. Mrs Smith called the principal to make arrangements for her class, and followed that up with a call to Sheriff Graham. When they arrived, Dr Whale examined Emma. When he asked Emma to take off her jacket and shirt so he could see her arm better, Emma looked apprehensive, but agreed after some encouragement from Mary Margaret.

Emma kept her face down-turned as Mary Margaret helped her out of her jacket and shirt. She didn't want Mary Margaret to know that she'd been bad enough to get hit. And she knew the Bennett's wouldn't like her showing anyone. She heard her gasp when she saw the bruise on her chest, and cringed.

Dr Whale examined her chest, gently testing the ribs to see if any were broken. He shook his head at Mary Margaret to indicate they were fine. They helped her into a hospital gown next,

"Emma," Dr Whale asked, "Can you tell me how you got hurt?"

"I fell," Emma answered quickly.

Dr Whale shot a look at Mary Margaret. He could tell from the look of her injuries, and from the other bruises fading on her arms and back that this wasn't accidental.

"Emma," Mary Margaret took her hand, "It's okay. You're not going to get in trouble if you tell us the truth. I promise."

Emma gave Mary Margaret a conflicted look and stayed quiet.

"Did somebody hurt you?"

Emma hesitated before giving a small nod. There was a shake to Mary Margaret's voice when she spoke again.

"Who hurts you Emma?"

Emma kept her eyes on her hand in Mary Margaret's as she whispered.

"Mr Bennett."

"Is that your foster dad?"

Emma nodded again.

"Emma," Mary Margaret said, her voice firm, and shaking with a different emotion this time. "You don't have to worry about him anymore, okay? He's never going to hurt you again."

* * *

Shortly after that, Emma was taken to have an x-ray taken of her wrist. Afterwards, Mary Margaret sat by Emma's bed while they waited for Dr Whale to return. It didn't take long.

"It's a greenstick fracture," he told Mary Margaret, "it's a relatively minor break. We'll put it in a cast and she'll be just fine."

Sheriff Graham arrived while Dr Whale was getting to put Emma's arm in the electric blue cast Emma had picked.

"Miss Blanchard," he nodded a greeting, "Sorry I took so long to get here. When Emma didn't arrive at school this morning, her teacher contacted the foster parents, and an alert went out. I've been on the phone with the state police."

"Do you know what's happening with Emma? Is someone going to take her?"

"Well… I am," Graham said. "Storybrooke doesn't have a social worker, so it falls to me."

"You can't send her back!" Mary Margaret struggled to keep her voice low. "The foster family she was with are abusive."

"I heard," Graham said, with a dark expression. "She won't be going back to the same family, not after this," Graham assured her. "They'll place her in the closest group home with an opening until another foster family becomes available."

"A group home?" Mary Margaret gave him a horrified look.

What little she knew of group homes wasn't pleasant.

Graham nodded.

"They don't have anything else available for her right now. The foster care system is overloaded with kids, they do their best but they just don't have enough foster families to go around."

"What about in Storybrooke? Can't we find her somewhere here.

"We don't have anywhere to place her in Storybrooke either," Graham answered regretfully. "I thought about it, trust me. But there's no one here who's even registered as a foster parent – we just haven't had the need here."

"I'll do it!" Mary Margaret blurted out.

Graham gave her a sceptical look.

"You aren't a foster parent either, Mary Margaret."

"So, I'll become one!" Mary Margaret insisted.

"It's not that simple, you have to pass checks and – "

"Please Graham," Mary Margaret interrupted him, "You know me. You know I'd never hurt a child – I'm an elementary school teacher, for heaven's sake. I've got a room in my apartment she can have. I look after her better than a group home could. Please, I'll do anything you need me to do, just let me take her."

She gave him a beseeching look until he finally gave in.

"Fine," he said, "I'll talk to her case worker; ask her if anything can be done. I can't make any promises though; this is really not my call."

Mary Margaret nodded along with everything he said and when he finished, hit him with enthusiastic thank-you hug, which he briefly returned before pulling away.

"I better start making phone calls," he excused himself.

"Thank-you!" Mary Margaret called after him.

* * *

The sheriff returned a two full hours later, and found Mary Margaret and Emma. Mary Margaret gave him a hopeful look.

"Emma's case worker wants to speak with her," Graham informed them.

Emma heard this and gave him an apprehensive look. If Bridget wanted to talk to her, that meant she was moving homes, _again_. She'd known it was coming – she had run away after all. She was probably going to get sent back to the group home.

Graham called the social worker from the phone in Emma's hospital room. Once he had her on the line he passed the phone over to Emma and ushered Mary Margaret out of the hospital room. He closed the door behind them, keeping an eye on Emma through the glass.

"So?" Mary Margaret burst out as soon as they were out of Emma's earshot. "What's happening?"

Graham gave a rare smile.

"Bridget, the case-worker, has spoken with her superiors and they are considering giving you temporary custody as an emergency foster parent."

Mary Margaret gasped, a covered her mouth with her hands, looking through the glass at Emma, who was still talking on the phone.

"Bridget just wants to talk to Emma. As long as she's happy with the arrangement, she'll be going home with you tonight."

* * *

Emma took the phone from the sheriff and said hello to Bridget as the adults left the room.

"Hello Emma," Bridget greeted.

Bridget went on to explain that the sheriff had told her what had happened, and she said that Emma would not be going back to the Bennett's house. Emma asked about her foster brothers, and Bridget said that they had been moved to the group home for the time being. Emma swallowed uncomfortably.

"Do I have to go back to the group home too?"

"Well, Emma, we actually might have something else for you."

Emma remained quiet and waited for Bridget to continue. After two bad homes in a row, Emma knew a foster home wasn't necessarily better than the group home.

"Emma, you know the lady who brought you to the hospital today?"

"Miss Blanchard?" Emma asked, not sure where this was going.

"Yes, Miss Blanchard. What do you think of her?"

Emma paused to think. She was confused by Mary Margaret. Even though she didn't seem to remember that she was Emma's mother, she had held her when she cried, and stayed with her at the hospital while they took pictures of her arm and wrapped it up in a cast. She'd even talked the doctor into giving her a special apron so she could stay in the x-ray room to hold Emma's hand when she got scared.

"She's nice," Emma told Bridget. "She looked after me."

"How would you feel about staying with Miss Blanchard for a little while?"

"What?" Emma asked, not sure what she had just heard.

"Miss Blanchard has asked us if she could be your foster parent. So if you want, we could place you with her. But if you don't want that, we can send someone to get you – "

"She wants me?" Emma interrupted Bridget, her eyes now fixed on Mary Margaret, who was talking to the sheriff on the other side of the window. "I can live with her?"

"Would you like to?" Bridget could hear the enthusiasm in her little charge's voice.

"Yes!" squeaked Emma, and then she stood on the bed. "Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!"

Emma punctuated every yes with a jump on the bed.

Bridget laughed over the phone.

"Okay, okay. Can you give the phone back to the sheriff now?"

"Yes!" Emma jumped again, waving exaggeratedly at the Sheriff and Mary Margaret to get their attention.

When they came back in the room, Emma thrust the phone at Sheriff Graham and then turned to Mary Margaret.

"I'm going to live with you!" Emma announced at the top of her voice, and leapt off the bed into Mary Margaret's waiting arms.


	14. Chapter 14

The rest of the afternoon was a blur of instructions, both from Dr Whale regarding the care of Emma's cast, and from the sheriff regarding foster-parenting and legal requirements. Finally, they were allowed to leave in the early evening.

Graham drove them home with a short detour to pick up Emma's backpack which had been accidentally left behind in the kindergarten office when they went to the hospital. Graham detached the car seat he'd managed to borrow from someone to Mary Margaret and said she could use it until she could get one of her own. Mary Margaret nodded for what felt like the thousandth time that day, took the car seat and Emma's hand and headed up to her apartment.

Once she had the door open, Emma slipped through and started to explore the apartment. Mary Margaret set the car seat down by the door and took off her coat.

"Do you live here all by yourself?" Emma called down to Mary Margaret from the top of the stairs, sounding surprised to find no one else hiding somewhere in the apartment.

"Yes."

"You don't have a husband?"

"No."

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

Mary Margaret coughed awkwardly. That was not a question she expected to be asked by a four year old.

"No Emma, I don't have a boyfriend."

"Haven't you got any family?" Emma asked as she came down the stairs.

"No, I don't. My parents passed away a long time ago, and I don't have any brothers or sisters."

"Oh," Emma said sympathetically. "You must be really lonely."

The truth of the child's words struck her painfully for second before she covered with a smile.

"Well I won't be alone anymore, will I?"

"Because have me now?" Emma guessed, a little tentatively.

"Yup," Mary Margaret confirmed, "You'll keep me company, won't you?"

"Yes!" Emma backed this promise up by running over and hugging Mary Margaret's legs. "And you can keep me company too," she added.

Mary Margaret nodded in agreement and bent down to pick Emma up.

"How about we find something to eat?" she suggested.

It wasn't until later, when Emma had fallen into an exhausted sleep, that Mary Margaret realised the enormity of what she'd done that day.

She'd taken on a child; a whole other tiny human being whose happiness and wellbeing was now completely her responsibility. And that frightened the hell out of her. Every fifteen minutes, Mary Margaret found herself sneaking up to the guest room to peek at the child sleeping there, thinking about how crazy she was to have done this, and worrying about all the things that could go wrong. Also, partly, she did it to check that she was still there.

After living alone for so long - how long exactly she couldn't quite recall, but it felt like forever sometimes – it was strange to have someone else sleeping her apartment.

A nice kind of strange.


	15. Chapter 15

After what seemed like only a very short time after she had finally gotten to sleep, Mary Margaret was startled awake by a noise in her apartment. She sat up in bed, still half asleep until she heard it again – the creak of someone coming down the stairs.

It probably wouldn't have woken anyone else, but Mary Margaret was used to sleeping in a completely silent apartment. She listened carefully and could hear the quiet sounds of someone small moving around in the apartment; soft breathing, the occasional creak and rustle.

Mary Margaret switched on the bedside lamp, slipped out of her bed and padded over to her open bedroom door.

"Emma?" She called out softly, peering into the darkened apartment.

She could see the four year old peering back at her through the gaps in the stairs. Mary Margaret beckoned to her to come over. Emma came hesitantly, concerned she was about to get in trouble for being up in the night.

As the little girl approached her, Mary Margaret squatted down to her level.

"What are you doing up honey?" she asked, yawning after she spoke.

The shirt Mary Margaret had given her to wear as night gown hung to Emma's shins, and her blonde tresses were mussed up on one side from sleeping.

"I'm sorry," Emma told her. "I tried to be quiet."

"You were very quiet Emma, I barely heard you." Mary Margaret said. "Do you need something? Are you thirsty? Did you have a bad dream?"

Emma shook her head to each of these questions.

"Then what's the problem? Can't you sleep?"

Emma shook her head, and then after a hesitation, told Mary Margaret that she needed her bag and that she'd been trying to find it.

"Your school bag?" Mary Margaret asked, a little confused by the response.

Emma hung her head, not wanting to say that she'd woken up without her baby blanket and couldn't get back to sleep without it. Mary Margaret, luckily, was already walking over to retrieve the school bag from where she had placed it out of the way on top of a table by the door.

She brought it back and gave it to Emma.

"So what's in there that you need?" she asked with a sweet smile.

Emma looked up at her mother and decided to show her. Maybe she'd realise who Emma was if she saw the blanket she had given her when she was born, thought Emma. With that in mind, she unzipped the bag, pulled out her workbook and her scarf, so she could reach the blanket buried at the bottom.

Once she had pulled it free, she held it out for Mary Margaret to see.

"Ah, is that your blanket?" Mary Margaret asked, now understanding what Emma had needed.

Emma nodded.

"I've had it since I was a baby."

"Did your foster parents give it to you?"

Emma's mood deflated a bit at this response, and she hugged her blanket to herself.

"No," she told Mary Margaret. "My _real_ parents gave it to me."

She unzipped the front pocket of her school bag and grabbed the article from Bridget's file on her. She showed it to her mother and pointed at the picture of herself as a newborn, wrapped in the blanket.

"See?" Emma said.

Mary Margaret looked at the picture and skimmed over the article that went with it. Her eyes widened when she read that Emma had been abandoned beside a highway as an hours-old newborn - she was horrified to think that someone could do something so callous to such a tiny helpless baby.

It was one thing not to want a baby, another thing entirely to toss them by the side of the road and effectively leave them to die. Mary Margaret felt sick at the thought of what would have happened to her if she hadn't been found.

Looking at the adorable little girl before her, holding out this article as if it were proof that her parents loved her, another thought struck her. The article said Emma had been found not far from Storybrooke.

"Emma," she said slowly, "Did you read this?"

Emma nodded.

"When you came here…. Were you trying to find your parents?"

"Yes!" Emma answered.

Mary Margaret swallowed at the hopeful look Emma was wearing. She wanted to find the parents who had abandoned her. She didn't understand that they probably weren't the sort of people worth finding. She couldn't tell Emma that though, and she didn't know what else to say. So she changed the subject.

"Emma, do you want to hear a story?"

"Yes," Emma said, looking interested.

Mary Margaret bent down and wrapped her arms around Emma and her blanket, and carried her into her room. She settled back into her nice warm bed and pulled the blankets up over them both. Emma was surprised by this for a moment before cuddling into Mary Margaret's side and waiting for the promised story.

Mary Margaret froze for a moment – there was something about this moment that struck a chord with her. She wasn't sure why, but laying in bed with this little girl with her armful of blanket and big green eyes staring up at her felt so incredibly… right.

She stayed like that for few seconds, before remembering she was supposed to be telling a bedtime story. Mary Margaret ran through the stories she knew and picked one she thought she could remember well enough to tell. She brushed her fingers through Emma's hair, gently smoothing the blonde tangles as she began to speak.

"Once upon a time there was a king and a queen who longed for a child. One day in the middle of winter, the queen sat by a window doing needlework and accidentally pricked her finger…"


End file.
